A strigoi doesn't have to be alone
by Cloelius Princess
Summary: After episode 8 Strigoi, inspiration hit hard enough for me to fill several pages with this idea. Dr. Doyle decides to give a little help to his childhood friend afer uncovering the truth about him. So he invites Marianne Coatlane to work once more in London, knowing she is exactly what his friend is in need of. Give this one a try. ALL CHAPTERS UPDATED.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi Houdini and Doyle fandom. I was hit hard by inspiration after the "Strigoi" episode.**

 **Paul Ritter was an amazing Bram Stoker, really loved his heartfelt portrayal. They were very accurate in a lot of things during the episode, even the details. For this fiction, I took as a fact that :**

 **Doyle and Stoker had a very close friendship and frequent meetings as suggested in the beginning of the episode. As such, I have lot of doubts that after knowing the truth he would just left and don't worry about his friend anymore.**

 **We glimpsed a softer side of the eccentric man both during his jail scene and the final one's. More human, less cold and detached. I will eventually explore that is this work.**

 **I also researched the disease, Syphilis. What I found left me feeling more aware for the risks, no doubt about it. In the time of the action, it was probably a very scary, much feared illness for any man or woman. And it surely left you out of society.**

 **I've watched the episode several times to correct any possible error related to environment or the house plant/ disposition of furniture. I wanted to write as accurately as possible this time as an exercise to my own writing. My book remains stuck in my desk waiting for me to find the right way to go on with it. Maybe this exercise will indeed help.**

 **Nothing here is mine except Marianne, the words and overall idea. The characters belong to the amazing team of writers and the oh so amazing actors that gave life to this episode. I've managed to share some words with "Houdini" and he is so accessible as a person I was stunned.**

 **I would also like to say to Dacre Stoker, if he ever reads this: Sorry if this isn't the perfect portrayal of your ancestor. I based it on the tv show character and some research. It may not be accurate. But my respect for you is unwavering.**

* * *

 **Bram's Point of View**

 _"Dearest friend_

 _Congratulations on the release of you book._

 _I find myself unable to join you for the time being due to matters out of my control. If you check the papers you will probably find out all about it._

 _Meanwhile and after our latest adventure together, I've found myself worried about you being all by yourself. In your condition you shouldn't have to worry about blackmailing from a servant and after taking some time to think about it I reached for a contact done years ago._

 _She will be an asset for you, I'm sure of it. Be so kind as to receive her and proceed to a full interview to see if she can meet your standards._

 _She is called Marianne Coatlane and already worked under special circumstances before. Rest assured that whatever you choose to talk with her will not leave your_ _house walls. Her conduct code is nothing short of impeccable._

 _Your friend forever,_

 ** _Arthur Conan Doyle"_**

Such was the content of the letter received at Bram Stoker's house in a morning, less than a week after his almost fatal adventure with Arthur and his other friends.

He had scarcely left the house since unless to visit his publisher or run errands. The invitations for parties, dinners and other sorts of events and receptions had been piling on top of a table. Anything and everything seemed to be a good excuse to send him an invitation.

Meanwhile it had indeed crossed his mind the thought about hiring a new maid several times. Glynnis however had never left his mind as a terrible example of what could happen if someone was to know about his problem. Especially after the official release of his book, when every newspaper would pay in gold to have gossip real or not about his person. The recent events had been dangerous enough to his name and career not to mention his life.

Bram Stoker considered himself a very private man in all senses, to the point that to any outsider it sounded like pure eccentricity. He had his habits, his schedules and they gave him a sense of security, even if only him could understand that. They were the constant in his uncertain life. They were tangible even when he struggled to get out of the bed in the morning due to his health.

Of course he had seen the reaction of Mr. Houdini and Constable Stratton to him. They couldn't understand. Even Arthur sometimes had dismissed his behaviour as plain eccentricity, friends as they were.

He distrusted people, to put it plainly. Now more than ever. Professor Havensling had been the last drop and he had found himself in a battle of life and death from which he had escaped by pure miracle of God's will.

Nevertheless he found himself agreeing that his old friend was indeed right. He shouldn't have to be constantly worrying about the secrecy of whoever worked for him. And he needed a maid. That or his house will soon become a total mess which was against his very nature.

Even if Bram found his brow furrowing with the well-intentioned intromission, Arthur mentioned that this woman's conduct was impeccable and that coming from Arthur was enough to serenade some of his fears. His friend was one of the few people that had never betrayed him and even when his life had been in immediate danger he had gone in his rescue.

It was then with some tension that he listened to a loud knock on his front door sometime in the afternoon. He swallowed loudly and spent a moment at the mirror checking if his makeup was still in place, before reaching for the door. He opened just a little crack of it.

A woman in her mid thirties dressed in dark hues had her hand in the air as if preparing to knock once more.

"Yes? May I help you?" He asked in a nonchalant voice giving nothing of his thoughts away.

"I've come to meet with Mr. Bram Stoker." Her tone was polite and respectful, her eyes holding his inquisitive glare. "Mr. Doyle sent me here this very morning. He told me he had already written a note announcing me?"

"Oh, yes. He did. I was expecting you. Please, do come in."

 **Marianne's Point of View**

Marianne took a good look around while walking through the streets between Dr. Doyle's house and the address that he had left for her. Answering the call of the doctor, she had arrived London that very morning.

The capital hadn't changed that much since her last visit months prior, she decided. Dirty kids still walked past her, pale and famished looking people too. London had always been a city of contrasts, where you could find very rich or very poor people.

In the Doyle's house she had been received by a departing Dr. Doyle and his household with great sympathy. They hadn't talked much, all that was more necessary already been said by correspondence beforehand. Marianne had eaten her breakfast and rested for a few hours, after almost two days of traveling non stop. Her last patient had been buried just a few weeks prior. Poor Mr. Belstrade, God may show mercy of his poor soul. Since then, she had returned to her own house after more than a year away. Dr. Doyle's telegram couldn't have arrived at a more propitious moment. He had asked her if she was perhaps unemployed at the moment, for he had someone in need of her services.

" _Thank you my God_." She had thought very pleased with another calling so soon after the lose of her anterior protegee.

Marianne had packed as soon as a new cable arrived came in two days later, explaining details and she had sent a new one back to inform when she was to be expected.

Now, she found herself in front of a door, knocking.

It took so much time for it to open at all that Marianne was already prepared to knock again when the door opened slightly, just a sliver. She could see what seemed like a half aged man in the semi darkness of an hall. He was wearing some very interesting glasses. Sunglasses. And it seemed like the only light getting inside that part of the house was entering through the shred of door open.

"Yes? May I help you?" The man asked in a nonchalant voice

"I've come to meet with Mr. Bram Stoker." Her tone was polite and respectful, her eyes holding his inquisitive glare. Doing enemies among the servants wouldn't do at all. "Mr. Doyle sent me here this very morning. He told me he had already written a note announcing me?"

"Oh, yes. He did. I was expecting you. Please, do come in."

The man opened the door enough to allow her entrance and she took the last steps needed to enter the main door. As soon as she found herself in a corridor, the door was rapidly closed and they were left in almost total darkness. Marianne had to fight the urge not to swallow audibly.

"Is Mr. Stoker home?" She voiced, now clearly more unsure than before.

"Forgive me, I was rude before." The man's voice sounded still where the door had been closed. " I'm Mr. Stoker. Now please, do follow me to my office. We will talk more comfortably there."

" _Easy said than done."_ Marianne couldn't help herself but thinking, in the obscurity of the house. As he passed beside her, she felt his body very close to her and got the perfect notion that we shouldn't be much taller than her. He may actually be around the same height. He also wore a very… Noticeable lotion. Or at least she thought it to be the lotion.

She followed closely the sound of his footsteps only bumping once with something and wincing under her breath. Yet, in the silence of that house he seemed to hear her anyway.

"I do apologize for the lighting. I personally prefer a more dark environment." He offered as some sort of entered in a sun filled hall and she would swear she had listened to him hissing under his breath. Immediately after he opened a door in front of her to an equally dark room and disappeared inside holding the door open for her. "Here, we have arrived."

Marianne found herself in a study room lighted with candles. The surrounding walls seemed to be in golden or brown hues and the windows were all covered with seemingly thick drapes that avoided almost every ray of the sunlight into the room.

He quickly gestured for her to take a seat in the only chair available in front of the desk but remained standing, leaning lightly on a very cluttered desk. He also kept his odd sunglasses. Sunglasses that Marianne recognised now as a very special kind. The missing light in the house made all the more sense to her then.

"So…" He started stiffly. "My friend, Dr. Doyle, sent you to work here."

"Yes. That was his hope, I imagine."

"And now that you are here, safely inside and away of peering ears…" He spoke slowly, with purpose and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Was he trying to scare her off? " I must ask you the fatal question: Has he mentioned my condition to you?"

"Superficially." Marianne decided that she wouldn't submit to his intimidation. "He told me that you showcased diverse… Eccentricities?" She offered casually.

That gained her some sort of low rumble from him. A disguised chuckle?

"Are those his words or yours?"

"Mine. I prefer to call some things for eccentricities than outwardly label them as symptoms or… Worst."

"So you do know my problem." He concluded, his body language strange. It was like if… He needed the support of the wood desk but his curiosity was pulling him towards her at the same time.

"I do believe I know one of your problems now." She answered in kind, gesturing to him and the room around her. "Your glasses, the darkness that envelops the house… They are nice clues, Mr. Stoker." She spoke in a leisure like tone, deliberately slow. "Dr. Doyle mentioned some random problems to me and also that it was dangerous but not so dangerous that I would be in risk of contracting it. He was truthful in his words, but I believe he choose to avoid naming it before by fear of scaring me off or disrespecting your friendship."

"And… Are you scared?" He asked, seeming very calm. His hands however were shaking slightly in front of her eyes. Other may have not noticed it at all. Marianne however had been trained to notice.

"No." She told him plainly. It was true. Although she had never been assistant to someone with syphilis before, she knew the illness, causes and effects. She had seen some patients with it before, in hospitals. It was bad, yes. But one could live a very long live still with it and with some quality. That she imagined was the doctor's plan. Meanwhile, Mr. Stoker must have noticed his own shaking because he closed and opened his hands a few times to regain control.

"He mentioned that this is not your first job under special circumstances."

"It's not. I've worked always to somewhat special employers. It's a sort of… A quirk for me."She couldn't avoid smirking at her choice of word. It was true all the same.

"Do you have any references besides Doctor Doyle?"

"I may find you some, if you do require them. I would have to reach for the families of my former employers however."

"The families?" She saw him frowning a brow in confusion.

"Oh… I see that Doctor Doyle didn't mention to you what special conditions mine are. I work with people with some sort of terminal illness, Sir. People that aren't so sick yet that they need a nurse's constant care but can use some help and support in the everyday life. Most of the time I do maid or governess tasks to my employers. Whatever they should require. I keep an eye on their health and assist them whenever and however needed."

"So what should I call you? A nurse or a maid?"

"Most called me assistant. Neither a nurse nor a maid, but doing tasks from both."

"From your previous answers I suppose your past employers are all…"

"Yes, most of them are." Marianne nodded, accepting what he was implying. She was a caregiver, not a miracle worker after all. "Some ended up in an asylum. I help to a certain point, but whenever things start going really out of the tracks I'm the first one to call for assistance."

"May I ask you what do you consider being 'out of the tracks'?"

"Physical aggression, mostly. As you can see for yourself, I'm just of average height and structure. If a grown man decides to hurt me I can do little to nothing to avoid it."

"Knowing my condition you do know that there is a chance of that happening here, don't you Miss Coatlane?" He sighed audibly, as if the thought alone caused him physical pain.

"Mrs. Coatlane." She corrected. "My husband passed away some years ago."

"I'm sorry for your loss, I didn't knew that."

"You couldn't. And yes, I do know that dementia may very well be one of the possible evolutions for your condition. But I'm not worried about that right now. You're still being civil after all." Marianne noted, her gaze on him, unwavering in its resolution.

"Do you know how to care for an entire household on your own? I'm out of servants right now and if I'm to have you I would prefer to remain like this. As you may know, I'm a very public figure at the moment and any secret about my person getting out would be… Disastrous."

"I fully understand your concerns, Mr. Stoker. Doctor Doyle expressed similar ones when he contacted me. I can assure you that my work depended more than once on my discretion. Whatever happens in these walls will remain in these walls, either you decide to employ me or not."

"My… Friends, know me as a peculiar man. An eccentric as you prefer to call it. I rarely entertain and almost never invite people in. I scarcely go out except to take care of business questions. My work is my life and I'm very methodic about it. Do you think you can accommodate that?"

"I think so. Of course, I would be thankful for a more detailed list of your peculiarities later so I can be prepared for them in advance, Sir."

"You may indeed see very peculiar things in this house."

"Believe it or not, I've already seen a fair amount of peculiar things in my life, Mr. Stoker. If you employ me, I will care for you and your home at the best of my possibilities so you can focus on your work alone. That will be my compromise."

 **Bram's Point of View**

He had already tried his best to dissuade the cheeky woman sitting in front of him from taking the job. He knew he had. Perhaps Arthur was right and she was indeed the person he needed, for she had showed no signs of changing her mind. Any other woman would have already left, knowing what this woman knew.

She seemed right enough. Experienced enough to know what she was dealing with but not bossy, as so many nurses he had met already in his life. He couldn't imagine her being of the whining or whimpering type either, which was a relief. At the very least, he could give her a trial period.

Making up his mind, he left his safe place by his desk and got closer to her.

"Would you accept a trial period?"

"I don't see why not. I've already my luggage here with me anyway, at Doctor Doyle's house."

"Then the matter is settled. You may stay. For now."

"Will you not ask about payment values?" She inquired, frowning a bit at the missing questions.

"After my last maid's salary anything will be a bargain. Especially with your curriculum, Madam." Bram snorted, thinking bitterly about Glynnis once again.

The woman raised from the chair and not for the first time Bram noticed they shared more or less the same height. She extend her hand in his direction, offering it to shake and close the deal. Oddly enough, Bram found his arm reaching out against his habit. But as quickly as his hand had gone forward to meet hers, it closed and dropped to his side in a fist. He lowered his eyes.

"I… I don't do hand shakes, I'm afraid." He excused himself, biting the insides of his mouth in tension.

"Condition or eccentricity?" The woman called Marianne asked softly.

He raised his eyes to meet hers, unsure of what he would find.

"Perhaps both?" He offered shakily.

She was smiling in a shy way, like if she was unsure about how to proceed too.

"If your hands are clean from sores…" She prompted gently. "Then the condition shouldn't be a problem, Sir."

"Are you certain?"

"Very much." Marianne nodded.

His fist opened and closed a few times beside him.

"Sorry… I really can't. Not now, at least."

"No matter." She quickly dismissed the whole situation, lowering her hand and rubbing her dress as if to clean away any possible wrinkles. "We may try again later. Maybe… Maybe when we get to be more familiar to each other. I'm a total stranger after all."

"Maybe." Bram found himself allowing.

Seeing as their meeting had been successful, Bram decided that the best way to proceed would be to show his new employee his house so Marianne could become acquainted with it. It was unnerving for him but necessary. First things first, he showed Marianne her soon to be room on the first floor.

"My last maid used to sleep in another room, but it is yet to be cleaned off her things. No family as come yet to collect them. Maybe you could care for that?"

The woman analysed the room he was offering her before answering.

"Sure. No problem."

"Aren't you curious about her?"

"Not at all. I've read the papers"

" _Of course, the papers…"_ He reminded himself, feeling foolish for not thinking about that sooner.

Bram saw Marianne walking to the nearby window and prepare to pull the drape away, but as she gripped the fabric in her fingers she stopped and turned to seek him.

"May I ask something that may be very important?"

"Ask away." He was curious to know whatever had stilled her hand on such perfect timing.

"The sunlight… I've read that people with your condition are sensible to it, but I would like to know to which measure. I would hate to hurt you by mistake, Sir."

"I am sensible to it. Direct sunlight hurts my skin and specially my eyes. That's the reason behind the glasses."

"I imagined as much by the rest of the house. But, if I open a drape in a room…"

"I would prefer if you avoid doing that in a room when I'm present." It was becoming worse each time he found himself in that situation. The shock of the light flooding suddenly a previous dark room… The memory sent chills down his back. It felt like needles all over, penetrating his pale skin. In small and controlled doses he could however manage some sunlight. It had become most of an instinct to avoid it by principle, just that.

"Okay… Then, if I want to let some light and fresh air to your study for example…"

"In that case you must be so kind as to inform me so I can retire to my room. Unless it's already dark outside."

She nodded and finally let go of her grip on the drapes.

"I imagine that you must do most of your life at night time, am I wrong?"

"Not at all, actually is quite is easier that way."

"Would you prefer if I changed my schedule to meet yours? I'm an early riser and if I am to take care of the house and also be available to you when you're awake…"

"You are free to do whatever you find that works better for both of us." He cut her short. "My expectations from you are simple: The house must be in order and whenever I should need something from the street you are to go out to fetch it. My meals will be served depending on the hours that I rise and sleep. Any problem so far?"

"None, Sir."

"Perfect. May I show you now the rest of the house?"

Once again she simply nodded and meet him by the door. He showed her the rest of the floor and which one was the door to his room.

"You may enter whenever you find necessary but please refrain from touching too much or changing the organisation of the room. I'm very methodical when it comes to personal things. Also don't ever enter without knocking and having an answer if you know I'm inside." He warned her before moving down once more.

There, he showed her the kitchen, the drawing room and the dining room.

"I will give you a few days so you can find the right places of each thing. I can't very much tell you where to find anything that my last maid used. I keep mostly to my office and room."

"As it is usual to any man, don't worry. I'm sure I will find everything sooner or later."

"Now, I don't know exactly the time but must be a little late. Wouldn't it be better if you collected your luggage from Dr. Doyle's house?"

"Yes, probably that's the wisest thing to do."

"I will give you money for a cab. I wouldn't want you carrying everything by hand, there is no need for that."

She seemed truly surprised by his offer.

"That's… Very kind, Sir. Thank you very much."

"No matter. Just… Try to return as soon as you can."


	2. Chapter 2

**Marianne's Point of View**

As the cab left the Doyle's household, Marianne let her mind wander once more about what was in store to her near future.

Mr. Stoker seemed well enough, mostly very collected. When they had the shaking issue she had noticed that he had more emotions on him than what he let on. He had seemed insecure and almost shy. Again in her room while talking to her about the effects of light on him, he had sounded a little bit surprised that she took the trouble of asking him about it.

Marianne had hope that soon enough they would get to know each other better.

Reaching her new home, she let the cab man drop her things in the hall before paying and closing the door. As her hand left the knob and she locked the front door with the spare key Mr. Stoker had lent her, she turned around to see a figure spying her down the obscured corridor.

"Mr. Stoker?"

"You mustn't have sent the cab man away so soon. Now how will you carry your trunk to your room?" His voice came to her, confirming that it was indeed her employer.

" I shall take some of the weight out first. I thought you would prefer it this way. No cab man taking a look around on your house." She hinted at his privacy policy delicately.

Once more she would swear he had chuckled at her answer.

"I do prefer it this way." He finally agreed. "But there was no need of you carrying things by hand up and down the stairs just for the sake of my privacy."

"Nonsense. I'm still young enough to manage that. It's almost dinner time." She decided upon changing subject. "Would you like me to prepare you something first, before taking my things away?"

"Why not? Go ahead. Whenever it's ready you may call me on my office."

Marianne obliged and walked through the dark corridor towards the kitchen. She passed by him, once again smelling his lotion. It didn't seemed so strong now, after a few hours in its company.

In the kitchen she struggled to find where the food was kept and all the utensils but once she did, she lighted the fire and start working with efficiency. At some point she thought she had listened some odd noises coming from other part of the house but she dismissed it as just Mr. Stoker walking around.

When the meal was finished, she served it in the dining room and went to call Mr. Stoker. She found him at his desk, without his glasses on.

"Dinner is served, Sir."

"Thank you, Mrs. Coatlane. It would be all for now."

"Do you want me to serve you at the table?"

"Not this time. Use the time to make yourself at home. I expect you to serve me some tea later, here."

"I will."

As she got down the hall she imagined how many travels would she require before the trunk got any lighter. It was with huge surprise that she didn't found it where it was supposed to be. Going upstairs, she found it by her room's door.

She smiled openly, now that she was alone. The poor man had carried her trunk up the stairs just to help her out. It must have been quite an effort as he hardly looked like the athletic type. Should she go and thank him? Or would he prefer a more masked form of gratitude?

Deciding that the best way of going was to unpack her things first as he had requested her to do, she put all her efforts to it.

Before long her things were out, the drapes were open and candles were lighted. She also lighted two other candles in the corridor so she could see at least a little bit more in front of her. The moon was already rising, and a silver light filled her room. Thinking that it could do no offence, she reached to open also the drapes of the remaining windows down the corridor, giving the whole floor some much needed light. It looked a bit creepy, but it was also comforting in a way. After all, if the sunlight couldn't be welcomed with open arms at least the moonlight could.

Going back downstairs, candlestick now in hand, she checked his office door first finding it closed. Then she got to the kitchen and prepared the tea as she had been asked. Marianne also collected the dirty dishes from his dinner and dropped them by the kitchen sink.

All that done, she grabbed a tray and did the now mostly known path towards his office, balancing precariously the tea set and the candlestick on the tray.

As she knocked lightly, his voice invited her in.

Mr. Stoker was at his desk working once more. The drapes of the room had been opened wide and there was a mix between candlelight and moonlight filling the room. It would take some days to get used, Marianne thought as she dropped the tray on the less cluttered corner of the desk.

"Mrs. Coatlane... I wasn't expecting you so early." The man said, not once looking up or stopping his pen movements on the paper.

"I really don't have that much belongings to unpack, Sir. Would you prefer if I come back later?"

"No need. Just serve me a cup of tea here at my desk and then you are free to do whatever you find pleasant."

"Sir, I was wondering if perhaps I could pick a book to read from your library?"

"Only if you return it in the same condition and to the very same place." He warned, still not looking up from his work.

"Thank you very much. Then I shall come back later to pick one."

Marianne prepared to leave the room. Just as she was about to close the door behind her, Mr. Stoker's voice stopped her.

"You may leave it ajar until you return, Mrs. Coatlane. And please, be sure to eat before returning here."

That surprised her.

"How do you know that I've yet to dine?"

For the first time since arriving she saw the ghost of a smile on his face.

"I just know. Now go, please."

 **Bram's Point of View**

Bram found himself a looking up from his work several times that first night with Marianne around. He was… Clearly distracted by her presence in the house, he would admitt that.

Also, after what had happened to Glynnis he had been afraid of another incursion by who knows what kind of people into his home. The thought was never very far from his mind and now that he had a new maid… Well, he had no wish to find this woman dead as he had found the previous. She seemed quite a nice person and he would hate to have to find himself in similar circumstances with her as a victim.

Finally deciding that he couldn't work with his mind so filled of thoughts and memories, he left his seat by the desk and decided to look around for his new employee. He was surprised to find her still in the kitchen, reading from the book she had borrowed earlier, while drinking a cup of tea. She lifted her eyes from the book and smiled to him at his arrival.

He seated himself on another chair and reached for the teapot to fill another cup for himself.

"It's almost cold by now, Sir. I will do some more for you."

"No need. I believe I will retire sooner tonight. I'm not feeling very much inspired."

"Alright then. Sir… I would like to thank you for your help. With… The trunk?"

Not for the first time that day, Bram found himself trying to repress a smile. He only half managed.

"I couldn't let you do it any other way, Madam. It would be impolite of me."

"You're a gentleman."

"I do try my best. But believe me, I will not always be this kind. Some days you will find that I have quite a temper."

"Mood switches?"

"Glynnis used to complain that they were more like tantrums. I don't know. I think I had always a bit of a temper. All artists do."

"Do you think in yourself as an artist?"

"Sometimes. Artists work mostly by inspiration. I find that for me is more of a question of method but anyway…"

"Yes, I can see your point." She replied, a bit dreamy. "May I ask what are you working on right now? Maybe something more about Dracula?"

"Have you read it already?" He asked with curiosity.

"Not really. The papers however gave quite a colourful image of it on their reviews."

"Would you like to?"

"Maybe… I usually don't scare easily, you see. But for what I recall you have your characters moving in an environment that was pretty dark. Like this house. So perhaps I should wait before reading it, until I'm more used to this place. I wouldn't want to make a fool of myself, jumping at every corner. You would think me silly then." She remarked cleverly.

Her comparison between his house and the environment on his book didn't escape Bram's notice. Now that he thought about it, she was right. They were very similar. In a way, he had written about something that was familiar to him.

"Tomorrow…" Marianne interrupted his ideas. "How will it work? Should I wake you up at any particular time, serve you breakfast in the room?"

"You may knock on my door by noon if you find me still in my room by that time. I take every meal downstairs as a rule."

"Would it be okay for you if I woke up earlier than that and used the extra time to open the windows on this floor?"

"You may do it." He allowed. "I can't remember the last time it was done."

"And if you need to come down?"

"I will let you know, Mrs. Coatlane."

"Then I think I will turn in. Will you need anything else, Sir?"

"Only that you check all the doors and windows before going to bed. I would also like if you locked your room's door."

"May I ask why?" He saw her frowning at his request.

"After previous events… I believe I would feel more at ease about your security."

"Your fear another attack on your person." She said, as if she only needed the confirmation to her thoughts.

"I do. And also on anyone who associates with me." Bram gave in, feeling that it was unnecessary to make up excuses for that particular woman.

"Them I will be sure to lock my door, if only to calm down your fears. Goodnight, Sir."

"Goodnight, Mrs. Coatlane."

* * *

Bram found himself waking up earlier than his usual not knowing exactly why. He turned in bed and tried to go back to sleep but discovered that he couldn't. Something was bothering him, something was either amiss or…

Marianne. Marianne Coatlane was what was bothering him. Not on a bad way, he surmised. She just…

" _Never mind, you old fool. You just need some time to get used to her presence. That's all."_

She was distracting. Not that she did anything to call his attention on purpose.

Now already pretty much awake, Bram found himself wondering what she may be doing. She had requested his permission to open the ground floor windows. Stretching his ear out, searching noises on the house, he was meet with silence. Oh well. Perhaps she had already finished?

Finding that staying on bed was a total waste of time anymore, he got up and began his morning ablutions. Having someone else in the house meant that his makeup had to be on point. He couldn't let her see the ruin he was becoming already on her second day. Glynnis had discovered it after years and screamed her lungs out in horror. It had took him days before she would even come close to him again. Marianne may be used already on some degree to injuries and the sort but that didn't meant that he was to be foolish.

It was a little past ten in the morning when he left his room, covered by his now familiar semi darkness. It seemed like it was a sunny day outside if the light filtered by the drapes upstairs was a clue. Looking downstairs he saw that indeed the ground floor was flooded by pure and warm sunlight. Marianne had kept true to her words. Now his problem was just one: Should he go down or return to his room? He felt hungry and with that in mind he risked to go down the steps, one at the time. His shades however had stayed behind in his office the night before, he discovered when he reached for them on his pocket. He was preparing to turn around and return to his hideout, when he heard footsteps coming closer to the stairs and a gasp.

"Mr. Stoker! I wasn't expecting you to come down this soon."

"No problem, I was already retiring to my room again." His back already to her, he couldn't very much see her reaction to his words.

"Wait! Are you hungry?"

He was about to deny it when his stomach rumbled loudly enough for them both to hear. Marianne laughed softly.

"I'm sorry." She apologised still giggling. He half turned to watch her covering her mouth with one hand. "Look, I'm mostly done here. If you give me just some minutes I will close the windows and drapes so you can come down." She offered as if it was the most natural thing on the world.

"Could you… Could you fetch my shades first from my office? I think I left them there last night. You may close the windows after that." He asked feeling slightly uncomfortable with the overall situation and her worry about him. Glynnis hadn't been like that.

"Sure. Wait a second."

She left hurriedly and he got to the ground floor, one hand in front of his eyes to protect them from the light. The warmth was welcomed but he knew it was only because the light wasn't directed at him.

Marianne got back meanwhile and gave him back his shades.

"You wear a heavy layer of makeup. I hadn't noticed that yesterday."

He half smirked bitterly. How could he explain it to her? Yet he had no need to explain, because Marianne left him standing there and got back to her self appointed tasks without further clarifications. Bram followed her, keeping to the areas without direct light. He missed the sun so badly…

She was closing the windows in his office one by one, pushing the drapes closed once more. He waited on the corridor until it was safe for him to go in.

"You should smile more often, Sir." She said out of nowhere, while collecting her cleaning rags. "It suits you, if I may be so bold."

" You're wrong, I'm afraid." He snorted at the idea. "No one on its right mind would want me smiling."

"Why not?"

Once again he snorted, looking away from the woman and reaching for things on his desk to keep himself occupied.

"Sir?"

"What?!" He answered more abruptly than what he had intended. She was making him nervous.

"I just… I mean it. You look better when you smile, even if only a little. You look younger. Maybe you should do it more."

He gripped the edge of his desk with such strength the his knuckles turned white. It was what he had left to cover up the turmoil he felt inside.

"Leave. Now!" Bram managed to command her in his coldest tone.

And she did it without another word.

 **Marianne's Point of View**

Marianne didn't consider herself so obtuse that she couldn't understand she had struck a nerve with her new employer. He had gone paler in a matter of seconds before he sent her out. Why?

She decided to leave it for later, when the house was already sorted out. Instead she prepared his breakfast and delivered it to his office. He ordered her to drop it by the desk and leave the room. It seemed indeed that she had done something not so great.

The rest of the day got by, she cleaned, dusted and cooked and Mr. Stoker remained closed in his office. Marianne would enter, switch the old tray with a new one and go out again. He sounded moody whenever he spoke to her and she had no wish to be on the receiver's end of his temper.

Only after dinner, when she entered to collect the tray did she find him more friendly.

He was reclining in his chair by the desk, eyes closed and sighed as she was reaching the door.

"Stay." He demanded unexpectedly.

Marianne almost dropped the tray on the spot, surprised.

" Would you allow me to take this to the kitchen first, Sir?" She suggest a little unsure if he wouldn't lash out on her again.

He didn't.

"Go." He allowed her, waving his hand dismissively.

She got back with another tray, this time with steaming tea. Marianne was preparing to serve him his cup at his desk like the previous night when he surprised her once more by raising from his seat and leaning on the front of the desk. He sighed deeply when he did.

"Is something troubling you, Sir?" She risked asking.

He looked at her in a weird way.

"You are." He admitted unexpectedly. "What you said, this morning."

"I'm very sorry if I crossed a line, Sir."

"Did… Did you really mean it?"

"I did. And still do."

"I… I do avoid smiling or laughing often. You see, I have very bad teeth and I don't want people to notice it. My doctor said that my condition is only helping in their deterioration." He sounded deeply ashamed.

"You don't have to be ashamed of them with me, Sir. After all, sooner or later I will watch you eating."

"I need time. To adjust to your presence."

"I understand. May I do anything to help?"

"Would you sit here with me?" He invited her out of nowhere. "You can read or do anything else of your liking, only refrain from doing much noise. I just want to get used to the company."

She nodded and took the same seat as the day before during the interview. Marianne felt his eyes on her the whole time but tried her best to not think about it. They drank some tea and after some time he eventually returned to his work, leaving her alone in that side of the study room reading a book.

As she started to get sleepy, she closed her book and took the tray on her hands, preparing to leave the room.

"Do you still require my services tonight, Sir?"

"No, that would be all, Mrs. Coatlane. You may procure your room."

"Tomorrow I would need to do some shopping, Sir."

"Very well. You will find a purse here in my desk in the morning. And by the way, be so kind as to visit the nearby butcher and to ask for the usual. He already knows what it is."

"I intended to visit him either way. Goodnight, Sir."

" Goodnight, Mrs. Coatlane."

* * *

The following two days flowed in more or less the same fashion.

While Mr. Stoker worked the whole day in his office, Marianne cleaned the house and cared for the meals. She had been surprised to say the least when the butcher handed her a bottle of cow's blood. Yet she dismissed it. It was not that Marianne wasn't curious. But she had learned in his years caring for others that you may receive more answers if you do less questions. People tended to open up more if they felt that they weren't being forced to do it.

Seeing as her employer barely left the house, Marianne decided to make it as merry as possible in the current circumstances. She bought fresh flowers that she arranged in his study and his room. She prepared him her best recipes. And above all, she tried to get him to relax around her.

On the third day however she was surprised when she heard him return home by lunch time banging the front door with such strength that the whole house was left shaking to its very core. That couldn't mean anything good.

* * *

 **It took longer than perhaps necessary to upload this as it only needed some polishing to be published. I already have two more chapters written but both need polishing too. Hopefully I will get to it this weekend. I do wish to upload this story as soon as possible again.**

 **If you like it, stay tuned. Next chapter will be a BOMB. You will laugh and you will cry.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Bram's Point of View**

"Mrs. Coatlane!" His cry echoed through the whole house not half an hour after he had arrived and locked himself in his study.

Bram felt like if he was ready to explode. A headache was starting to build up above his eyes and that only happened in very particular situations. How did his editor dared to make him an ultimatum, he kept asking himself.

Marianne interrupted his thoughts by entering his study hurriedly still cleaning her hands in a rag.

"Mr. Stoker, you wished to talk with me?" She questioned looking at him with evident curiosity. He couldn't blame her after his evident display of temper.

"Sit!" He pointed to the only other chair in the room besides his own behind the desk and the woman seated there quickly while eyeing him carefully.

"My publisher is forcing me to attend a so called party he will hold tonight. I've been avoiding them as a plague but this time I wasn't so lucky. He inclusive asked me to procure some sort of female company to go with me. As I know very few women and have no desire whatsoever to call any of the others that I know, I think that leaves you as my only choice. The most correct and the only one that I would risk to take. You're polite, educated but with enough spirit as to scare away any possible matron or feminine fan. I will present you as my assistant and if anyone asks, we will say that you're the one that keeps my paperwork in order. What do you think?" He resumed the whole affair as dryly as he could.

The woman seemed to take a few moments to consider it before answering. Another point in her favour, he couldn't avoid thinking. The more he knew her, the more he liked but after the last disasters one couldn't be careful enough or cautious enough.

"It's doable. At what time do we need to leave?" She finally asked.

"Around five. Do you have anything suitable to wear in a reception?"

"I believe I do, don't worry about it. Now, if you allow me, I believe I will check on your clothes. It would be a shame for my employer to appear in public with wrinkles." Marianne excused herself while trying to crack a joke.

He would have laughed in any other circumstances but that wasn't really the best time. His humour couldn't be more dark at the moment.  
Bram dismissed her with a gesture of his hand before going back to sit at his desk. The work however couldn't take his thoughts away from the terrible night that was sure to take place. He finally gave up and all but hitted the wood with his closed fists. He hated social gatherings. He hated people in general around him. And his editor knew that very well. Bram was feeling like he could kill the man himself. What if someone guessed about his condition? Or if the guests thought he too eccentric? Marianne would be there with him too. If he screwed up, could she do anything to help him at all without adding to the ridicule?

Lunch was sent back untouched and he only left his study later that afternoon to prepare for torture.

He was mildly surprised to find his best suit already out, brushed and ready to be used along with vest, tie and anything else that he would need to look elegant. The woman seemingly had impeccable taste for gentlemen's attire, he would give her that.

As the clock struck five he was already by the front door, walking impatiently back and forth waiting for Marianne.

"Mrs. Coatlane!" He pretty much shouted, his patience wearing thin with the nerves threatening to take over.

"Going…" He listened to her coming downstairs.

"The cab is already waiting for us. We will be late because of you, Mr. Coatlane."

"Forgive me, Sir. It took longer than what I thought to prepare everything for tonight." She stopped in front of him, taking an appraising look at his attire and overall looks.

"Mrs. Coatlane, is there any problem?" He demanded becoming even more infuriated with her staring at him like that.

"Sorry, but... I believe I need to fetch something else. You can go on to the cab, Sir. I will meet you outside in a minute." She said before all but vanishing down the hall again.

"To Hell with women." He muttered under his breath, while walking out.

 **Marianne's Point of View**

The travel was a quiet one. If one would ignore the cringing sounds coming from Mr. Stoker's teeth, that is.

The man was a behaving like a hedgehog, all spines up. So nervous that he could even bite Marianne decided, making her presence as scarce as possible.

They arrived with only ten minutes delay and it took less than five minutes before Mr. Stoker's editor dragged the unwilling man through the crowd, presenting the writer to everyone present. Marianne was left a little behind, a behaviour to which she was pretty used to already. As an assistant, nobody expected her to follow her employers like a dog. She was to keep the distance and interfere only if strictly necessary.

Mr. Stoker seemed to be fairing well enough, as his dark mood was enough to keep most people at bay after the first introduction, she noticed. Marianne even listened to some comments about how unpleasant and strange he was among the younger ladies present.

" _That is hardly the way to go if he wants to keep some popularity as a writer. He really should do some effort, after all he owns it to his public_." She couldn't keep from shrugging discretly.

"Mr. Coatlane?" A male voice suddenly asked, making her turn around.

A young gentleman was inspecting her with a sparkle of joy clear in his eyes.

"Yes?"

"Don't you recognize me?"

She did an effort to recall his features. He was indeed familiar but she couldn't quite place from where.

"Mrs. Coatlane, it's me. Tommy. Tommy Hedgefield."

"Tommy! Oh my God, you look so different. Last time I saw you, you were what? Ten?"

"Eleven, I think. Mrs. Coatlane, what a pleasure to find you here. Are you here on work or as a guest?"

"A bit of both, I guess. What about you?"

"I'm working in association with one of the guests. Business for my family. You know how they are."

"Are they still the same?" She dared to ask, given their former friendship.

"Pretty much. After Uncle Paul… Something's changed, but for the most part some things will never change."

"You may not believe it but I still recall your uncle very clearly. What happened to him was a terrible misfortune."

"Indeed. Oh, look. My associate is calling my attention. Probably to present me to some other old hag. Wish me luck. It was wonderful to meet with you again, Mrs. Coatlane."

"The pleasure was all mine, Tommy. And good luck." She wished, already watching him go through the crowd with a smile on her lips.

It was then that Marianne found her eyes focusing on her employer once more without really knowing why at first. He looked deeply bored while listening to the incessant babbling of an older matron. His shades were still on their respective place. And yet...

"Oh my God!"She almost choked when she realised what was wrong in the whole image. There, just a little below the lenses of his glasses on his cheek,near his left nostril... Was that a dark smudge on his skin? Or was it... His skin, showing up slowly from under the melting makeup!

Checking his whole face she confirmed that he was indeed sweating and because of that his makeup was melting, risking to reveal the marks of his condition.  
She looked at the people surrounding him, trying to see if anyone else had noticed. Apparently not yet, as they all looked rather bored or condescending listening to the old lady and focusing their attention on her.  
Thinking quickly, Marianne realised she may very well have the time yet to save the night. And her employer's reputation with it.  
So without further thought she choose one of the oldest tricks ever: The fainting damsel.

* * *

"Poor girl. I will take you out to the balcony. The owner has some small seats there were you can sit and recover among some rosebushes."  
"Oh please, Madam. I don't want to give you that much bother. Mr. Stoker can take me. He is already used to my weaknesses, he knows how to deal with me."  
She let her hand seek support on Mr. Stoker's suit sleeve, slightly pulling him with her out of the room. Praying to whatever divinity that may be listening that her good luck wouldn't leave her now and that the dour man would follow her. She could feel him cringe from the light contact between them but hoped that he would comply to her wishes nonetheless. Luckily, he did, finally sighing and conducting Marianne in the direction of the balcony. They had just crossed the open doors to the outside and realised that they were alone when Mr. Stoker decided to strike her with sarcasms.  
"I do hope this is not to become an habit whenever I have to take you with me somewhere. Not that I don't enjoy reprieve from the incessant chattering,Mrs. Coatlane. But people may start to wonder about the true extent of our collaboration."  
It was plainly obvious that he had yet to find out about his little problem, so Marianne decided to answer to him in kind and leave the sugar-coated manners for later.  
" I do indeed hope that you're right, Mr. Stoker. It would mean that you can realise for yourself when your makeup is melting away with the warmth of all the candles lighted inside."  
Mr. Stoker just stared at her for a moment, his brain in apparent struggle to process her words and their meaning. Then he went pale all of a sudden and started to shake visibly.  
"Sir? Are you feeling alright?" She worried he would go into shock there and then, as he kept shaking.  
"I'm… I'm doomed." He mumbled, every breath laboured as if he had just finished a race.  
"Sir?"  
"I brought no makeup with me. Now everyone inside will find out about…"  
Marianne found herself grinning wickedly while she reached for her purse and produced a white small pot.  
"This makeup?" She asked keeping her grin, watching his eyes going wide in recognition.  
"How... When?"  
"Remember when you chastised me tonight for going back to seek something?"  
He got slightly flustered in his pallor as he realised what she was implying. Marianne's smirk got only wider.  
"When I saw you by the door ready to leave I imagined you weren't taking this with you. It made sense, as you are hardly used to social events. So I got back upstairs and checked on your room for it. As you may already know, I found it on the vanity and saved it in my purse. Just in case." She explained as if it was the simplest thing in the whole world.  
Mr. Stoker however seemed to think it extraordinary as he had his mouth agape in surprise.  
"How did you knew that I would need it? I never do."  
"You never go to parties either. " She remarked with irony. "I'm a woman, Mr. Stoker! We do know these things. And now let's take care of that mess before someone comes here looking for us. We will have time for further discussions later tonight at home."  
"I have no mirror with me."  
"Them allow me to save you once more tonight. You can thank me later on. Give me your handkerchief."  
He procured it on his pocket and delivered it to her hand.  
"Take out the shades and stay still. I will try to do this as quickly as possible."  
Once more Mr. Stoker complied and she patted softly his face to clean up a bit of the moisture that had resulted of his sweat. He was still trembling from nervousness.  
"It will help if you can get a grip on your nerves, Sir. There is no way that is going to help us now. Save it for later."  
He nodded, swallowing loudly and seeming close to tears.  
Marianne worked up the powder makeup and corrected the mess on his face as efficiently as she could.  
"There. It will be okay for now. I will keep it with me and watch out if it happens again but it may be nice if you keep close to the open windows or the balcony doors. The candles are always a nuisance." She sweared under her breath before instructing him further. "Go back inside now or people will come looking for you. I will follow close behind."  
Marianne saw as he replaced his shades on their respective spot and took a deep breath before adjusting his coat. When he exchanged a look with her again, he was already in control once more.  
"Thank you. I shall not forget this."  
"Just go, Sir." She hurried him, smiling again.  
In a minute he was gone and Marianne could finally breath in relief. She could feel her legs finally giving in, now that the worst was over. She had lectured and ordered her employer around, for God's sake. At least he had the decency to look thankful.  
After giving her heart some minutes to calm down, she returned inside to find Mr. Stoker excusing himself for the time away. A glass of whiskey could be found on his hand and Marianne wished she could have a stronger drink as well. Instead she settled her need with a more ladies appropriate drink to calm her nerves. After less than an hour Mr. Stoker signaled for her to go closer and bid goodnight to their hosts.  
The travel back home was a silent one, each one by one side much like the first time. Only when they found themselves inside and the front door locked behind them did the emotions came back up.  
One minute they were sighing in relieve and in the next one Mr. Stoker started laughing as if out of his mind in front of a very surprised Marianne. He had almost never smiled nearby her.  
"Sir? Are you alright?" She found herself asking not for the first time that night.  
Soon the laugh was replaced by sobbing and she understood the truth. The man was letting his emotions out and they were out of his control.  
Out of pity, Marianne risked to lay a hand on his shoulder. For once he almost didn't cringed at her touch. It was a progress in itself and at the same time a prof of how disturbed he was.  
"It's over, Sir. Try to calm down now. Go to your office and have some more whiskey. I will join you in a few minutes."  
What she was really offering him was some time to collect his feelings if he so wished and they both knew it. But he indulged nonetheless and disappeared down the hall leaving her behind without another word.

* * *

 **If you're enjoying this story, be so kind as to review. It would mean the world to me.**


	4. Chapter 4

Bram's Point of View

The party night had more than one side effect for Bram Stoker. Firstly, he started giving more credit to Marianne. He couldn't totally trust her, as it would go against his self preservation instincts. However he decided to let her in a little bit more. That night,sitting in his office with a glass of whiskey in his hand and the sleeves of his vest rolled up to his elbows, Bram weightened his options.

Marianne had just saved his sorry excuse of a person from utmost scandhal in British society. Even Glynnis wouldn't have done that for him and they surely had more history between them than Marianne had with him in a only a couple of days.

Bram sighed and took another sip. It burned all the way down to his stomach. The headache from earlier that day was now raging full force on his skull and he knew that it would hardly get any better in the next 24 hours. The perks of his condition, he snorted bittely at the thought. His body was slowly degenerating and desintegrating. His now showing arms were the proof of that, filled with the marks of rooting. Every scrape, every scratch could possibly turn into a definitive wound if he wasn't careful enough.

A soft knock at the door woke him up from his thoughts. Marianne head appeared next through a crack of the open door.

"Sir? May I come in?" The woman asked with a simpathetic face.

"Please, do."

She opened the door and walked in, once more in her normal day-by-day clothes.

"How are you feeling?"

"Where should I start?" He replied, looking down and frowning lightly at the normal yet hard to answer question.

"Alright,maybe I should have avoided that question altogether. I'm sorry, Sir."

Bram find himself smiling openly at her quick apology.

"No need to apologize. I should be the one apologizing. My behaviour towards you was unacceptable, Mrs. Coatlane. You were remarkable beyond any expectation in the patience and the cunning you showcased tonight. I will forever own you." His voice was friendly, in the same tone that he would use to talk mostly to Arthur.

He saw the woman in front of him avvert her eyes and start blushing a deep pink. It suited her, if was to be completely honest. Not that he was about to tell her that.

"Would you like to sit?" He invited her.

"Thank you." She accepted.

"You know..." Bram started while looking at the remaining amber liquid in his glass with sudden interest. "I think your trial period is over, Mrs. Coatlane. Tonight you proved to be the kind of person I need by my side. Arthur was right was about you and I'm sure he will make a point in remembering that to me from now on till the end of my days. Anyway... There will be more parties in the foreseable future and I would very much like to have you by my side."

"It will be an honor, Sir."

Bram noticed not only her smile but also her eyes scanning his naked forearms.

"They don't look nice, hum?"

"Is... Is the rest of your bodie like that too?" She seemed to hesitate, her expression seeming almost pained at the thought. Disgust of pity?

He only nodded, a lump forming on his troat.

"Sir... May I be so bold as to ask for something of a promise from your part?"

That sparked his interest.

"You're indeed bold. But at the light of the events of this night... Go on."

"I would like to ask that you abstain from feeling ashamed or embarassed around me. It's just that... There is no point in doing so."

His free hand turned into a fist and Bram closed his eyes as he tried to rule his emotions. She had a valid point in her request. He knew she did. Sooner or later she would see the true extent of the plague on him. And yet, accepting it would be like walking naked around the house. He felt... Vulnerable. Exposed.

She seemed to understand, as she raised from the chair and prepared to leave the room.

"Mr. Stoker?" She called him out. He opened his eyes and found Marianne looking at him from across the room with worry in her eyes but also something else. Was that fondness? "No need to commit to anything tonight. Or because of what happened tonight. Just... Think about it, in your own time. It's very late. The house is all locked, I saw to it before coming here. Go to your room and try to rest. Tomorrow will be a new day."

With that words and a smile, Marianne left the room leaving behind a surprised Bram Stoker.

Would that woman be forever a surprise for him?

THE END (Forever..?)

* * *

I thought on doing this last longer. But while it had many readers, I only got two reviews and no followers. If after this chapter I get some more interaction, I may consider writing more chapters. I have several ideas on paper already. Now it's up to you all.

Love you anyway.


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